


sought death on a queen-sized bed

by Faust



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, M/M, pornstars AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 07:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18006638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faust/pseuds/Faust
Summary: “You’re real lucky. You’re filming with Ash.”Max considered getting back in his car, driving away, and quitting the adult film business while he was ahead in that moment.Ash Lynx wasn’t an unknown in the industry by any standard. He had exploded on the scene with far too much flourish and skill, and was difficult to book. He was a high dollar commodity – and for good reason. His films sold. His photo sets circulated like fire. Any studio that sold him could expect a significant increase in sale activity and publicity.And for Max? Well. It didn’t hurt any that he had his own collection of Ash’s works tucked away on his computer at home.(Banana Fish Smut Week: Day One -- Photography/Videography and Aftercare. Based on Sal's pornstar AU. Shameless excuse to write these characters in the adult film industry.)





	sought death on a queen-sized bed

**Author's Note:**

> The first of my pieces for the Banana Fish Smut Week on Twitter. For this piece I chose Photography/Videography and Aftercare, because I can't just be satisfied with just one. Nah. Had to make it a bigger work for myself. As said in the summary, this was shamelessly inspired by Sal's pornstar AU idea on Twitter -- I saw the thread and boy if my mind didn't just work in overdrive on it. Couldn't shake it and here we are writing about it.
> 
> I'm also late. Because what are deadlines, amirite
> 
> Pairing is Max Lobo/Ash Lynx -- Yes, Ash is eighteen. He is old enough to be starring in adult film. Yes, it is an AU. No, it does not take place in actual Banana Fish timeline. If you have a problem with any of that, you know where the "x" is or th back button, and I'm not holding your hand on that one.
> 
> Title from "A Little Death" by the Neighbourhood.

* * *

 

                It was with a heavy hand – and sigh – that Max shut the door to his car and leaned against it, turning his face up to the midday sun to squint at it in frustration instead of continuing inside the suburban home the studio was renting out for today’s shoot.

 

It wasn’t as if he had _chosen_ to pursue this as his career intentionally. On the contrary: Max had loftier goals when he had graduated from University with his – thank you very much – high marks in journalism. He had intended to make a name for himself as a _true_ journalist. Not one that had been bought out by the media outlets, and not one who could be _bribed_ into turning the other direction or writing an article to sway the public opinion in another direction. No. Max wanted to put his pen to paper – metaphorically speaking – and produce the truth in bulk.

 

The problem had come in the form of connections. Max had never anticipated how many hands needed to be greased to get to the right positions, or _who you needed to know_ just to get ahead. His peers got the memo, but Max Glenreed – running on scholarships, grants, a hope and a prayer, and a part-time job just to _survive_ – did not. He had still graduated with a mountain of debt, and with no job automatically secured to cover the mounting cost of living and paying back the student loans.

 

At first, it had not been much of a problem: he took whatever jobs he could in order to get by and support his end of the rent with his roommates. But as their careers took off and his did not. . . They left, and Max was left with a rent he couldn’t cover on his own, a desperate (possibly slightly-intoxicated) internet search, and a devil-may-care attitude as he went and auditioned for Banana Skeet Companies to star in their newest series: _Big Dicked Daddies_.

 

If he was being honest with himself, Max never anticipated landing a spot with Banana Skeet Companies, nevertheless being picked as a regular. In his wildest dreams, he never would have imagined that working for the adult film industry would have afforded him the ability to pay off his student loans, afford his groceries and rent, and even a _comfortable_ lifestyle. If he was honest, the entire situation still felt surreal at best.

 

Max knew it wouldn’t last forever – all film industry stars had an expiration date and his was ticking away – but he could ride this high just a little longer, couldn’t he? _Just a little longer_.

 

“You ready for your scene today, Max?” He startled slightly at the voice coming from beside of him, eyes snapping down from the sky to look at the snaggle-toothed cable boy who wiggled on the spot, a box full of unidentifiable cords spilling out in a cacophony of inky mess.

 

Bones was one of his favourites to see on the shoots. He had this _way_ of lightening the oppressive mood that could form between takes, and he would often worm his way into Max’s dressing room – or whatever was serving as one at the time – between takes to sneak him food or ask him for help with his boyfriend: one of the grips, a bulky man named Kong who had the purest heart of gold, Max had found, but not the greatest ideas of where to take someone on a date (then again, neither did Bones – if he was asked about _Chipotle_ being a romantic destination one more time, he might scream).

 

Instinct had him reaching out, carefully nudging the falling cables back into the box. “Yeah – I read the synopsis and have an idea of what I’m going in for, but I didn’t see who I was starring with today. All I know is I’m playing some rich step-father with a spoiled son who wants some extra money?”

 

“Mhm—thanks—yeah, that’s right.” Bones nodded, shifting the box higher on his chest as he trotted forward forwards the two-story home – all marble columns and brick outer walls, with wrought iron fencing, and Max _really_ doesn’t want to think about how much it would cost to _live_ in a place like this as he pushed away from his car to follow. “You’re real lucky. You’re filming with Ash.”

 

Max considered getting back in his car, driving away, and quitting the adult film business while he was ahead in that moment.

 

Ash Lynx wasn’t an unknown in the industry by any standard. He had exploded on the scene with far too much flourish and skill, and was difficult to book. He was a high dollar commodity – and for good reason. His films sold. His photo sets circulated like fire. Any studio that sold him could expect a significant increase in sale activity and publicity.

 

And for Max? Well. It didn’t hurt any that he had his own collection of Ash’s works tucked away on his computer at home. He favoured more of his solo material – items where Ash _chose_ how to be pleasured and by _what_. He seemed. . . happier in those pieces. Less faked.

 

It was hard to not immediately think of one such film – with Ash sat full on a vibrating dildo, his head tossed back with a _beautiful_ noise of bliss falling from parted lips – in that moment. Blood tried to rush south as the memory flooded Max’s mind and he swallowed, painfully adjusting his jeans for a moment.

 

“Ash Lynx? Are you sure there wasn’t some sort of mistake?” He knew his voice was strained as he fell into step by Bones, pausing only long enough to open the gate for him.  

 

Bones shook his head, flashing his fang-toothed smile as they walked. “Nah. Saw his name on the sign-in sheet and everything. You’re working with the big shot today. He’s getting makeup and cleaned for the shoot right now. You should probably go and get ready yours—”

 

Max’s hand reached out, grabbing the back of Bones’ overalls as the boy tripped on the marble steps, a deep sigh rumbling around in his chest. He wasn’t going to be granted the _time_ to be nervous if this kept up. Maybe that was for the best, on retrospect.

 

The inside of the home was quickly being turned into a studio, with grips and cable boys laying the cords and setting the lights. Bones abandoned Max in the doorway to carry his box to Kong – who was perched precariously on a ladder setting up a series of lights that Max didn’t look forward to basking under later. Still: this had become his little family of sorts. He saw them more than his actual – not that he could ever tell _them_ what he was doing with his life (he didn’t doubt that Jessica knew. She was a smart woman – smarter than him – and the internet was a simple tool).

 

As he wandered down the hallway towards a spare bedroom that had been converted into a dressing room for him, Max’s eyes caught a glimpse of a blond form laying sprawled on another bed, eyes affixed to the ceiling, a tired expression on their features. The door to the room had been left slightly ajar, granting Max this moment to see his co-star, and it brought his footsteps to a pause as he took the youth in from the other side.

 

As beautiful as he was, all Ash looked from here to Max was. . .sad. His eyes looked far away and exhausted, and his pale arms were crossed beneathe his head to provide it a pillow to rest on. Those same eyes appeared slightly dewy – a wet dampness that only came with someone on the verge of tears as they struggled to hold them back. Milky white cheeks were splotched with hints of pink – and Max couldn’t help but feel like his suspicions were confirmed. He looked like he wanted to be _anywhere_ but here.

 

Max couldn’t blame him. He was too young to be in this business – eighteen or not. His hand reached out, gently taking the nob to pull the door quietly closed before he continued to his own dressing room to prepare. As much as he wanted to go in and ask, or offer his comfort, Ash wasn’t his to help yet. They weren’t even official co-workers yet.

 

For now, he would give the kid his peace and quiet. It was the best he could offer.

 

* * *

            “Daddy, please. . .”

 

How was anyone supposed to say no to that – in scene or out of it? Max swallowed hard as he looked across at Ash – no, he was supposed to be _Chris Winston_ , his newly acquired stepson in the scene, not Ash Lynx – who had let his glasses slide low in the bridge of his nose to peer over them, his lower lip poking out in a soft pout. Max physically had to restrain himself from leaning across the kitchen island that separated them and grabbing a fistful of Ash’s cardigan to haul him closer and let his teeth descend to those sinful lips and claim them as _his_.

 

As it turned out: Ash was a very, _very_ good co-star and, once on set, all thoughts of the previously wounded boy in the dressing room were nothing but fleeting images left in the recesses of Max’s mind to be dealt with later. Right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. Namely, a camera that was about half a foot away from his face, and his cock that felt as hard as lead in his trousers.

 

Max leaned forward, giving in to his temptation slightly: his index finger hooked beneathe Ash’s chin, thumb curling on his plush lower lip to trace along the curve, and he didn’t miss the way that Ash’s breathing hitched slightly in response.

 

_Did he—?_

 

“And what are you willing to exchange for it, son?” Max pushed his thumb into that wet mouth _ever so slightly_ and was forced to bite back a sigh at the immediate warmth that closed around the digit. “How much do you want those books?”

 

Somewhere – in the background – Max could hear the frantic hisses from their director to the filmography team to “make sure you zoom in on that moment” or “get the still images for the site,” but it was getting harder to think as Ash’s tongue swiped along the pad of his thumb still caught inside the cavern of his mouth.

 

_Click_

_Click_

_Click_

 

The shutters were frantic, trying to capture the tense moment locked between the two actors before Ash released Max’s thumb from his mouth with a wet _pop_ , and blinked doe-eyes up at him. “ _Anything_ , Daddy. Whatever you want. I’m yours.”

 

Max didn’t allow the cameras time to move and reposition themselves for the next shot: hands reached out and fisted deep in the plush of Ash’s baby-blue cardigan and he used the leverage to _haul_ him across the marble kitchen island and crash their lips together. He wasn’t sure who it was that gasped in the end: Ash or someone in the crew, and he couldn’t find it in his fogged mind to care as he held the youth close to him, devouring the pliable mouth he had against his own eagerly.

 

Ash’s hands clambered for purchase as he rose on his knees – against Max, against the counter – and settled for one tangled in the ascot around his neck, the other slung high and grasping at the low-hanging pot rack above the island. The rack creaked ominously, one pan crashing to the ground, but neither of the two involved flinched or broke their engagement to even blink an eye at it.

 

The cameras didn’t turn away for a second.

 

Ash’s breath hitched as Max pushed his tongue inside, eager for access, and brushed with long, languid strokes against the roof of his mouth. Max couldn’t hide the pleased rumble in his chest as he heard the little sound, and he repeated the action as he felt the boy’s spine begin to melt – he was thrilling, intoxicating, and if this was going to be his _magnum opus_ of porn shoots, he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

 

Max had every intention of making sure Ash did as well.

 

When they broke apart – a thin string of saliva connecting their mouths together for the briefest of moments – Max took in the vision before him: Ash, mouth slightly parted with plump lips, a soft haze of pink dashed across his cheeks as his chest heaved for air. The shutters were still going in the background, and in the corner of his eye Max could occasionally catch a flash of light from the cameras, but nothing could draw his attention from the vision in front of him, sprawled deliciously across the kitchen island, waiting to be ravaged.

 

“Show me how much you want your allowance, Chris.”

 

Ash didn’t need to be told twice.

 

With more grace than what Max expected of someone in his state, Ash slid off the island and onto the floor in front of him, and _if that wasn’t a sight he wanted burned into his memory for eternity then he didn’t know what was_.

 

It wasn’t with hands, but with teeth and tongue, that Ash’s mouth met the firmness of Max’s cock pressed against the front of his jeans – so hard that it strained against the denim material. Ash mouthed at the bulge, tongue languidly licking a stripe up the length, and Max bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a remark. Instead, hands fumbled with the button of his trousers to help, and be damned if Ash didn’t take it as a written invitation to rise higher on his knees and grasp the zipper in his teeth, slowly pulling it down as if he were unwrapping a dainty present.

 

Max couldn’t stifle the relieved sigh as it allowed his erection freedom to breathe: unbridled by underwear or the restrictive material of his jeans any longer.

 

“Daddy, you’re so—”

 

“It ain’t gonna suck itself.” He grunted out, and immediately regretted the line for the flash of amusement that danced across Ash’s face.

 

He heard a chuckle in the background from their director, and a soft prompt to continue.

 

Terribly cliché lines were part of the business: things he would never say to a lover unless his brain had well and truly checked offline – and his was well on its way with how Ash looked on his knees – were encouraged. Max still died a little inside every time he uttered them, and somehow having _Ash_ of all people hear it come from his mouth made the situation worse. He almost opened his mouth to speak again – to say something else, anything else – or to request an edit to the scene, but—

 

All of Max’s thoughts stuttered to a grinding halt the moment Ash’s lips closed around the head of his cock and sucked.

 

The sound of the director faded away to static in the background, and suddenly he barely even noticed the hot beam of the makeshift studio lights anymore – they were lukewarm in comparison to the mouth that enveloped him, and Max didn’t think twice about carding his fingertips through blond locks, careful to mind the arm of his partner’s glasses: as hot as the image was to knock them askew, it wasn’t the time. Not yet. _Not just yet_. He could wait a little longer for that. Instead, Max let his fingers knot at the back of Ash’s head and had to swallow his own groan at the absolutely _sinful_ moan the boy let out at the action.

 

Ash’s head bobbed, taking more of Max deep into his throat, and green eyes opened to lock eyes once he had swallowed him to the root.

 

Max trembled on the spot.

 

They had only barely started, and Ash was making his toes curl over a _blow job_.

 

“Ah, ah, baby boy.” Max gasped out, chiding him as he used the leverage on Ash’s hair to pull him back, forcibly removing himself from the younger man’s throat. “You’re not ending this quickly. We’re taking our time with this. Show Daddy how much you love his cock. Take your time.”

 

Ash’s mouth fell open and he pressed the flat of it against the long underside of Max, making sure to keep his eyes on his older man’s as he _held_ him there for a moment before he raised a hand to grasp at the base, giving him a firm stroke as he chose to focus on languidly sucking at Max’s head. Only after a few breathless beats did he finally close his eyes as he ducked his head, abandoning the tip to deliver attention elsewhere. Max openly gasped as Ash’s tongue traced along his sac before he mouthed at it, hand jerking the full length of his cock as he did so.

 

Not once did Max release his hold on Ash’s hair: fingers twist in deeper, and Ash _keened_  in delight at a particularly hard twist. Max logged this away as useful information and let out his own groan as Ash’s tongue lapped from balls to tip again, lips pressing gentle kisses along the way.

 

“Like this, Daddy?” Ash prompted, kissing the head again before swirling his tongue across the slit to gather the precum gathered there. “Do you see how much I love it?”

 

“Mm, I’m getting the idea.” Max huffed, his other hand dropping to grasp Ash’s chin again.

 

He had responded so well the first time, and the second was an equally responsive reaction: Ash’s body shivered slightly, and his eyes lit up in excitement and anticipation. Max chuckled low, thumb pressing against Ash’s lower lip again before he pressed _down_ , holding his mouth open with his hand.

 

“Just hold still and let Daddy take what he wants now, okay? That’s a good boy.”

 

Ash made a strangled sound and furrowed his eyebrows together – Max held still long enough to monitor for any signs of the safewords or signals but neither heard “Red” or “Yellow,” nor did Ash shake his head three times which meant he had clearance – before Max buried his cock into his mouth. He choked, mouth still held open by Max’s hand as the man _rocked_ his hips forward, rocking further into the glorious warmth in front of him.

 

His throat closed, clamping down around the invading cock, and they both moaned in pleasure.

 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes—That’s perfect. Zoom in more. Catch the way his spit is—” Max tuned the director out, focusing instead on the teary-eyed vision in front of him.

 

Ash’s own hands moved, no longer focused on pleasing Max, to his own trousers. He hastily unbuttoned his trousers and jerked them down his hips as Max thrust in and out of his open mouth with low groans of bliss. Hands fumbled, and Ash’s fingertips shakily closed around his engorged cock, stroking furiously as his head began going light from lack of oxygen. Max would pull back long enough for him to get a gasping breath – spit soaking his chin and dripping down onto his cardigan, tears running in lines down his cheeks – before he would dive back in to assault the back of his throat and Ash would _mewl_ in absolute bliss as his head went fuzzy.

 

Max was no better, one hand holding the blond’s mouth open, the other fisted deeply in his hair as he used his mouth as if it were no better than a pocket sex toy.

 

He could feel the heat curling in his belly – a tell-tale warning of what was to come – and he gasped out a simple warning. “Keep it open, son – Don’t you spill a drop. I want to see you try to _swallow_ it all.”

 

And Ash did: he tried as Max curled double over him, spurting thick down his throat, but there was _too much_ to swallow and even Max could tell. They both pulled away, and an errant splash landed across Ash’s glasses as they did. Ash’s hand was still moving – still stroking his firmness with fervour that Max rarely saw – and he gulped greedily at the air to breathe with Max’s pants matching his own.

 

Max watched for a moment longer before huffing softly. “C..Can’t finish yourself, huh, son? Here. Let Daddy help you out.”

 

“N-No, I don’t—!”

 

Max had barely closed his hand around Ash’s cock before the youth let out a strangled noise, hips pumping uselessly into his fist as his orgasm ripped through his body. He fell back – a puppet with strings slashed by their marionette – as Max raised his eyebrows at the come in his hand and then the exhausted boy across from him. Was he that pent up, or had he really. . ? Max didn’t entertain the latter thought for long, but the prospect that Ash had truly _enjoyed_ being with him blossomed a warmth deep in his chest, and a pride that he would wear out of the studio that day.

 

Neither of them even noticed the cameras frantically flashing, or how the others had zoomed in closer, eager to get their final shots for the scene.

 

Max leaned forward, offering his hand. “Seems you made a mess. Clean that up, little boy, and then we’ll talk about the next step to getting your reward.”

 

Panting – cheeks flushed and tear streaked, with drool staining his cardigan and dampening his chin – Ash half-lidded his eyes and leaned forward to greedily lick Max’s fingers, and his own come, into his mouth.

 

The shutters went wild.

 

* * *

             “Here.”

 

Ash looked up, an expression of confusion plastered on his features at the offered mug. “What’s this?”

 

Max huffed slightly where he stood in the younger man’s dressing room, now only in loose-fitting pyjama pants. Ash was a little better, having opted for the loose bottoms and an oversized shirt, as they took their break between scenes. They had finished part one – the blowjob – and would pick up with the actual penetration scenes when they got back. The staff had to change the lighting, makeup had to be retouched. . .

 

And that meant they got a break.

 

“Step one of aftercare, Ash.” Max explained with a smile, offering the mug again. “Warm drink. I went. . . Pretty hard on your throat back there. I know it was okay, but I’m not some kind of asshole. It’s only right to look after your partner after a scene, y’know? I don’t know how you take your tea, and the coffee was pretty un-drinkable – trust me. Bones made it, and he doesn’t know his way around a Keurig on a good day, nevertheless an _actual_ machine with a pot.”

 

“Aftercare?” Ash’s eyebrows knit together and he slowly took the mug, turning the word over as if it was in a foreign language he had never heard.

 

This. . . didn’t bode well. Max’s hackles raised. “Yeah. You know – where you check in with someone after a scene and make sure they are okay and coming down alright. It’s important. Ain’t no one ever done that with you before?”

 

The blond didn’t answer, choosing instead to blow across the surface of the tea, wisps of steam curling around his youthful features.

 

Max cursed inwardly.

 

No fucking wonder.

 

“Well, you’re going to have it now.” Max sighed heavily, eyes wandering around the room to look for _anything_ to use. “I don’t know what you’ll like specifically, but most people like warm drinks. I’d usually offer a bath too, but since we have another scene that would be. . .”

 

“Pointless?” Ash supplied, taking a sip of the tea before making an appreciative noise over the flavour.

 

Well, he had done something right with it. Max smiled slightly before he sat his mug aside, crossing the room to the dresser where a hairbrush had been discarded. Makeup would end up redoing it, but. . .

 

“Hey, let me try this. It’s worked for some girls in the past.”

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not—”

 

“Oh, yeah, I know you’re not a girl. I saw _everything_ you had to offer.” Max smirked as Ash choked into his tea, approaching with the hairbrush. “Just relax, okay? Part of the point of aftercare is to help bring you down after the scene. I know we’re just gonna get keyed up again, but may as well go in as relaxed as possible, yeah?”

 

He took Ash’s silence as begrudging acceptance and reached out, starting the brush at the base of the longer tresses, careful of any knots. The more he worked – and the higher he climbed – the more he began noticing the tension escaping Ash’s shoulders. Soft sighs even worked their way out of the young man into his tea as bright eyes slid shut. Max hummed softly, dragging the brush a little harder against Ash’s scalp, and he practically _arched_ up against it like a cat, desperate for the attention.

 

_Not so bad, is it_? Max chuckled quietly, repeating the action again and again, only finally stopping when Ash looked properly _at ease_ again in front of him.

 

“There. . . We’ll visit this again after the next one. Warm drink, bath, hair brushing. . . Whatever you want to come down. Maybe a snack? Catering should be by.”

 

Ash hmped softly and waved his hand. “Not the snack. Catering never brings anything I like. Can we. . .”

 

And here he fumbled.

 

“. . .what about dinner instead?”

 

Max wasn’t old enough for his heart to stutter like that.

 

He smiled.

 

“Yeah. Dinner would be great, baby boy.”

 

“Oh god, _shut up_.”


End file.
